


It All Seemed Harmless

by RudeNNotGinger



Series: MShalenko Chronicles [1]
Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Autistic Commander Shepard, Black Male Character, Canon Autistic Character, Canon Disabled Character, Colonist (Mass Effect), Gen, M/M, Mass Effect 2, OC Male Shepard, Other, PTSD, Past Relationship(s), Physical Abuse, Sole Survivor (Mass Effect), Trans Male Character, Trans Male Kaidan Alenko, Trans Male Shepard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-07
Updated: 2018-05-07
Packaged: 2019-05-03 14:24:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14570919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RudeNNotGinger/pseuds/RudeNNotGinger
Summary: There was no way Commander Ian Shepard could have prepared himself for what he saw when the last of the VI core's green shimmery pixels had tumbled away.An expanded version of the final cutscene from the Project Overlord mission in Mass Effect 2, but with added angst and a few dialog tweaks, plus my OC Shepard in the immediate aftermath. Warnings in the tags.





	It All Seemed Harmless

There was no way Commander Ian Shepard could have prepared himself for what he saw when the last of the VI core's green shimmery pixels had tumbled away.

He could only stand just inside the doorway and stare at the helpless young man, caged immobile inside a network of metal and wires, eyes pried open, tubes shoved into his mouth.

_Quiet! Please make it stop._

Shepard drew in a deep breath and stared up at David, dangling inside the sparse metal cocoon.

 _Savant._ Since hearing that word inside the virtual reality he'd fought through to get to this place, it'd echoed in Shepard's head. He fucking hated it, barely escaping that label himself as a kid with a  photographic memory that helped him easily retrieve anything he'd seen or read with perfect recall. Back on Mindoir, he'd heard a girl in his class named Marina called a "savant" because she could draw perfect reproductions of landscapes and faces she'd seen, but the other kids made fun of her awkward movements and her monotone voice.

 _Savant._ That word made him keep his written journals to himself and slack off in class. It was still tar sticking to the back of his throat, sitting just behind his larynx like acid. It was why he'd jumped at the first chance to enlist in the Alliance after his entire family had been killed. He could prove himself by throwing translucent blue balls of dark energy, shooting bullets, and hopefully at the end of the day, saving people's lives.

Shepard's heart drummed furiously behind his armor, and his jaw tightened until it ached. _That word_ was why Gavin Archer had strung up his own brother like a goddamned puppet.

"Wait! Commander!"

Gavin Archer raced into the room behind Commander Shepard. Just before the Spectre turned away and looked up at David again, he caught the researcher trying to peer through his Cerberus helmet's face shield, but its smoky tint completely obscured his face. 

"I'm begging you. Don't do anything rash."

Shepard didn't even think before spinning around and glaring at Gavin.

"Rash?" he snarled. "Like forcing your own brother into an experiment!"

Gavin's hand drifted up to his forehead. _I know how this must look, but I never intended...it was an accident...it all seemed harmless._

Beyond his glowing crimson wrath, Shepard barely heard the rest of Gavin's words. Instead, he glimpsed David's dark irises shift around, the young man's glance dancing to his brother's hair, then to the top of Shepard's helmet, then to empty spots on the ceiling and walls, then to the bars of his chrome cage.

Shepard narrowed his eyes at Gavin. "And before you knew it, you were running your own private hell."

"I had no choice!" Gavin's words clamored near the shell of Shepard's ear as he turned away. He couldn't stand to look the fucker in the face. Too pissed off to even try focusing on the scientist's nose or lips as he spoke.

"The demands were incredible." he continued. "The Illusive Man doesn't broker failure!"

Shepard turned his head, eyes fixed on Gavin as he walked. A hawk tracking the glint of tan fur sprinting through dried overgrown weeds.

"Any war we fight with the geth will be bloody. I was asked to find a way to avoid that."

Shepard snorted, turning his whole body so he could face down the researcher. "And how many have already died for this project?"

Gavin lowered his gaze. "More souls than will ever forgive me. But I won't apologize for radical ideas. If my work spares a million mothers mourning the loss of a million sons, my conscience will rest easy."

Behind the helmet's dark tinted visor, salty drops forming at the inner corners of Ian Shepard's eyes. " _Look at him_." He jerked his head lightly towards the gaunt form suspended inside the clusterfuck of metal. "Your brother _will never be the same._ "

"The damage may not be permanent. He might recover some semblance of his mind."

Heat sparkled up Shepard's neck and across his face, making him clench his jaw. "So you'll sacrifice your brother's happiness _for your own ambition_."

The researcher stared up at his handiwork, held up like a limp flesh rag doll, frightened eyes still darting around the open space just beyond his prison. Shepard's gaze was drawn to the pale, glistening riverbeds of tears cutting through the layers of grime on the young man's cheeks.

_Square root of 906.01 equals..._

Archer's voice dimmed down as he finished his brother's calculation. "30.1"

Shepard's chest was tight, his rigid muscles constricting around his ribs and caging the air within. He had to remind himself to breathe. _Savant._ That word bounced into every lightlorn corner of his brain.

"What I've done to David is unethical. If he dies, it's unforgivable. Let me take care of him. Please."

_Quiet. Please make it stop._

The commander pivoted and leaned in towards the researcher, eyes narrowed and fixed on a point in the center of the other man's hairline. 

"I've seen enough of your cruelty to know he'll never be free from it here." He pointed at Gavin. " _I'm taking him away."_

If there was a console he needed to finish the disconnection process, it was only a short walk away. Spying one out of the corner of one eye, he was barely aware of his own feet moving as he turned to make a beeline for the terminal--

"No, leave him! He's too valuable!"

The telltale clicks of metal on metal sounded behind him, followed by the electric hiss and pop of bullets leaving the chamber.

_The fuck--?_

Commander Shepard froze when the first shot missed, then spun around just as Archer's second shot pinged off his left pauldron.

Between the first and second bullets, _Ian_ Shepard stopped thinking. His hand went to his own pistol, drawing it out and raising his arm, holding the weapon up in Archer's face with its barrel pointed skyward. A lump hardened near the back of his throat. Rage prickled hot over his face and neck, then controlled the arm that crossed his chest, cocked his hand, and whacked the pistol's heavy metal chassis across Gavin's nose. 

You even _think_ about coming after your brother, and this _bullet_ will be waiting for you. _Then,"_ Ian hissed between gritted teeth, shoving the barrel into the other man's face, " _we'll see who's valuable._ "

A single trickle of blood poured from Gavin's nostril. "Where will you take him?"

_I ain't gotta tell you nothin', motherfucker--_

The words shot up to the surface of Commander Shepard's mind, but he bit them back before they left his lips. Quietly, he drew in a breath, then let it go before he stepped back, lowered his arm, and spoke.

"Grissom Academy. They can help people like David," Commander Shepard said.  _"Minus_ the torture."

He raised his fingers and pressed the comm button on the side of his helmet. "Joker. contact the Academy and let them know we have someone who needs their help."

"Aye aye, Commander," came Joker's fuzzy voice inside his ear.

"The Illusive Man can fire me if he doesn't like it."

Commander Shepard turned and walked away from the researcher, still affixed to the spot in which he stood alone on the empty tile floor. 

_Square root of 912.04 is 30.02...it all seemed harmless..._

Ian Shepard finally swallowed the hard mass in his throat and blinked. By the time the Normandy picked him up, both cheeks shone with jagged salty wet lines behind his visor. Once through the airlock and on board his ship, he pushed wordlessly past Miranda and Jacob without removing his helmet. 

"Commander--?" Jacob started, but Ian held a hand up to silence him as he darted towards the elevator.

Alone in his cabin, Ian hurriedly stripped out of his Cerberus armor, depositing some of its parts onto nearby chair while the rest landed on the floor. He tossed himself onto the bed and sniffed loudly as he carelessly dragged the back of one hand over both eyes, then stared at the nearly indestructible exoskeleton, now empty and scattered in pieces. He'd talked himself into wearing it after his first visit to Omega, seeing a few turned heads and overhearing whispers of disbelief while slithering barefaced through Afterlife's crowded dance floors. 

Or was it after Kaidan walked away from him on Horizon? _You've changed. But I still know where my loyalties lie. I'm an Alliance soldier. Always will be._

He sighed and studied the shiny curves of his Cerberus helmet while it sat on the floor. Better now to let the galaxy think he was indeed a rumor, a ghost, or at worst a battered soul seeking vengeance for killing him, murdering half his crew, scattering his friends to the winds, ripping the only man he'd ever loved away from him, and turning his ship into a giant avian skeleton disemboweled and sleeping on a frozen world.

Ian shifted his gaze up to the viewport in his ceiling, spying his own reflection in its teal tint: kinky black curls erupting in a messy riot from his scalp, the faint carmine glow trying to fight its way out from behind his deep brown eyes, the craggy red fissure just above his jawline on the left side of his face. He'd turned down Dr. Chakwas' offer to reconstruct his face. Garrus had his scars; he was content to wear his own. 

For the next hour he didn't move, tracing the swirling stars and their glowing patterns of light with his eyes, letting them burn _savant,_ Mindoir's landscapes, David Archer's caged dangling form, and Kaidan Alenko's face out of his mind.


End file.
